Saturday, December 5, 2009


I have been in the hospital for 8 weeks and 2 days under experimental treatment. Each night they drip in Foscarnet that makes me feel like I'm being electrocuted and my brain in particular, deep fried. These sensations last for about five hours. I finished the 6 week course on Monday and since then have watched my mood plummet through the floor. I think I was in too much pain to have the luxury of depression. I know it's chemicals. Foscarnet in until the I am living death. Focarnet out, Valcyte in until the depression is unbearable. I make it to 6 weeks of Foscarnet and now the Acyclovir goes in. I wake up sobbing and don't know why. Acyclovir out...constipation and diarrhea. My friends come and they hurt me. I curl myself tightly into the smallest ball of flesh and close my eyes. I pray for my heart to stop beating and it is then I know that it's got me.

I am being pursued by the desire to die and it has its oily, cold hands wrapped around my eyes and head. I can smell it. It scares me. It pushes people away. It confuses me. I don't remember who to trust. I don't remember who won't hurt me or if it is inevitable that I am a pulsing, toxic open wound and any contact will hurt. I am terrified.

I am supposed to rest post-treatment in a stress free environment for like a year or something. I am afraid to stay here. I am afraid to go home. I pull further into myself at the thought of going to a psych ward. I know I'm being tricked to believe there is no place for me. I know it's a trick, but it's a tricky trick and I am fooled. A glimmer of relief is the voice of my mom saying "It's going to be ok. You are going to be ok."

Monday, November 23, 2009


I can't remember who I am anymore. Maybe this is what two months of poison drip in a hospital does to you. Maybe it's viral mayhem in my brain. I don't understand it, although it makes perfect sense. It's been one slap after another, with the in betweens laced with pain and illness; it would almost be crazier to want to live. Do I want to live? Not particularly. Not anymore. It's gone on for too long and as they say...enough is enough. I quit again and again. I cry again and again. I push myself out of bed, put the blinds up to let the antidepression sunlight float in. I try so hard to do art, to see friends, to do whatever trying looks like but I'm crumpled and damp inside. Infested with it.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

To all you living in your pajamas

heating up heating pads,
taking temperatures,
pleading for massages,
trying to remember where your keys,
your cell phone,
your everything is
every day,
accumulating enough
and prescriptions
that you could start your own black market pharmacy...

I send you
sun to fill you aching body with warmth
hugs to fill your lonely heart with love
laughter to fill your solitude with color
and hope.

Happy CFS Day, dear friends.